All Chapters of BARREN BILLIONAIRE'S EX WIFE, MOTHER OF TRIPLETS. : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

LUCIANO“I’m telling you she woke up, stared me straight in the eye and asked me who I was,” I said, still unnerved. Leaning against the window casement in the sitting room of the hundred-year-old mansion where I'd grown up, I yanked at the collar of my shirt and glanced at my little sister. . “Well, thank goodness she’s had a breakthrough,” Laura said from her favorite high-backed chair. “I’ve been so worried, you don’t know. This has been a nightmare, Luci, an absolute nightmare.”“It’s not over yet.”“Oh, I know.” She shook her head and not one strand of brown hair moved.The phone jangled in another part of the house, but Laura didn’t budge, she just glanced toward me like she was expecting me to pick up the phone when she's even more closer to it and younger than me . What sort of disrespect is that?.I sighed and ignored her. The phone jangled sharply again, then became silent. “Why won't you pick it up Laura? ” I said, clenching my fist so tightly that they were almost

ELOISEI opened one eye a crack but the shaft of piercing light forced me to shut it again. My headache was a low throb, and the pain in my jaw more pronounced.“Mrs. Kate?” a soft female voice said.That name again. Oh, God, why did it seem wrong? My eyelids fluttered open and I winced against the blaze of light, then realized the light has been turned down low, the blinds drawn, the room is now semidark.“Do you know where you are?”I nodded. seeing the ECG and the pungent smell I'm perceiving the IV and all. I couldn't be in a full body spa section receiving a body massage. My mouth tasted terrible, my skin itched from lying in bed and my hair felt stringy, my scalp gritty. Slowly, the blur that was the nurse’s face came into focus.“This is The Hospital, and I’m Jessica” The name tag on her pale blue jacket verified the information with an RN tacked on. Tall and blonde with crystal blue eyes, she offered a smile of straight white teeth. “Glad to have you with us.”I swa

ELOISEFor the next few hours, a nurse had bustled into my room, given me a quick sponge bath, and straightened the sheets. I'd just breezed out the door when my family arrived in mass. Smiles, hugs, kisses that seemed strained were rained upon me by strangers. All strangers. I forced a grin that I didn’t feel and tried like crazy to remember these people, only to fail. Only their voices had seemed less foreign to me, their faces sparked no memory whatsoever.“It’s so good to see you awake and have you back with us,” my mother-in-law said, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of a handkerchief.She's A petite woman with grey-shaded hair and small even teeth, she wore high heels that matched her purse, a gray wool suit, pearl-colored silk blouse and a print scarf in tones of red and gold.“Thanks.” I stuttered. Carolina cleared her throat. “That big old house has been empty without you.”My heart melted and I smiled. Three adorable children of almost same age stood staring

ELOISE "Of course you want to go home," Damon said, his voice gentle but firm. "But it’s impossible." "Why?" I asked, my throat dry. "I think he wants to run a couple of routine tests. Your vital signs, that sort of thing. No big deal," he replied with a reassuring smile. "A big enough deal to keep me in here," I snapped, my frustration bubbling over. "You just woke up, honey," he reminded me, placing a hand on my arm. His touch was meant to soothe, but it only made me feel more trapped. "But I want to go home," I repeated, my voice sharper this time. "Now." A tense silence filled the room. Damon shifted uncomfortably, exchanging a glance with Carolina. She had been fussing over a Christmas cactus but now busied herself with a vase of flowers, plucking out the wilted roses and dropping them into a nearby wastebasket. Her hands trembled slightly, but she avoided my gaze. "Listen, dear," Carolina stepped closer to the bed, her expression hardening. A few moments ago, her

LUCIANO“The memory loss is severe,” the doctor explains, his voice calm but firm. “Eloise is experiencing post-traumatic amnesia. It’s common in cases like this, and while some memories may return, there’s no guarantee of full recovery.” His words sit heavy in my chest. I glance toward the bedroom bed, where Eloise sits, staring at her reflection in a mirror. The bruises and stitches stand out against her pale skin. With her free hand—the one not attached to the IV—she reaches up, fingers brushing over the shaved patch on her head. She swallows hard, her jaw tightening as she traces the row of stitches, her expression unreadable. “Oh, God,” she whispers, blinking rapidly. Her spine straightens, a feigned strength settling over her. “I . . . I don’t think I’d even pass as the Bride of Frankenstein . . . you know what they say, always a bridesmaid, never a . . .” Her voice falters. She tries to smile, but it’s shaky, failing before it even fully forms. Watching her like this—so